#poetry in costume

[poetryincostume]

The Saddest Girl In The World

Edwardian-ish ribbon corset with beading, 2023

Silk ribbon, cotton taffeta ribbon, Czech glass beads

[cat-cosplay]

Roses are Red

Ruby is not Mean

But from 5 to 7

The show must be Green!

[53v3nfrn5]

Pearl beaded bridal gown by Alexander McQueen worn by Björk Guõmundsdóttir in her ‘Pagan Poetry’ music video (2001)

[fixing-bad-posts]

[Image description: A tumblr post, edited blackout-poetry style to read, "children need to be exposed to drag."]

---

children need to be exposed to drag

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“Detail of the Lion Armour of French king Henry II, 500 years old.”

French kings were considered to be God’s representative, and to have healing powers.

(Leila L’Abate)

* * * *

Literature was born not the day when a boy crying wolf, wolf came running out of the Neanderthal valley with a big gray wolf at his heels: literature was born on the day when a boy came crying wolf, wolf and there was no wolf behind him. That the poor little fellow because he lied too often was finally eaten up by a real beast is quite incidental. But here is what is important. Between the wolf in the tall grass and the wolf in the tall story there is a shimmering go-between. That go-between, that prism, is the art of literature. -Vladimir Nabokov :: [Life is Poetry]

[alive on all channels]

[timeflieslikeabanana]

Defense Centralism

Holding on tightly

To things I don't have, grasping

Looking for safety

[itsbrucey]

S2 for the Monster au would be harder. Considering dealing multiple realms and the doodler but if I had to assign monsters for the teens off the top of my head. Scary-Banshee, Normal-Half Harpy Half-Mimic?, Lincoln is hard to pin down but maybeeeeeee like. a Frankenstein esc. creature?? Or a water spirit bc if the Titanic, and Taylor being a demon but he's half human in the other way ( maybe a little bit of scales from Glenn tossed in for the flavor) OR MAYHAPS...IMP DRAGON THING????????

[mx-lamour]

8 - Cloak

[That's right, we've got audio this time babyyy!]

At first glance, the cloak was black, and that was all. It hung over Strahd's impeccably squared shoulders and draped long and straight past his ankles. It was made of fine wool from only the blackest of sheep and overdyed besides, to achieve an even richer, deeper shade.

What most did not see, at first glance—which was the most opportunity most people ever had to look—was the way the color faded brownish toward the hem. The protective woven trim along its bottom edge had twice been replaced, but even now it was beginning to fray again from frequent use, with bits of mud and dust crusted along the join of stitching, despite diligent efforts to brush it carefully out. The brownish hue was of the natural dark wool, scrubbed raw of its additional dyes by the combined menace of rain and sleet and sunlight, by kneeling and sitting and otherwise battering the fabric with his legs as Strahd walked. It was faded this way around the collar line as well, not only by precipitation from the sky but perspiration from his body also, where it clasped around Strahd's neck at the front with intricate loops and buttons, although the effect there was somewhat hidden by the folds of its hood, whether drawn up to protect Strahd's head or swooping back to rest upon his shoulder blades in comfortable disuse.

Most also did not notice the stains of iron blood in splatters on the parts which covered up Strahd's chest and arms, but this was by design. Black would always be a practical choice for a noble man engaged in war. But, unlike the careful dyes, these evidences of the lives he’d claimed would never, it seemed, fade.

Hardly anyone had seen the inside of the cloak, except perhaps a passing glimpse, when a long leg kicked its front gores brusquely forward, and the center part flapped open to reveal a secret corner near Strahd's feet. The lining from the shoulders down was sturdy linen, and this had been dyed red. A lord could afford his indulgences.

Deft hands slipped beneath the old wool cloak, prying deep into its scarlet depths. They found Strahd's waist and settled there.

What the cloak would see, if it had sight, was a partner of its own, a well-worn and half shorter cape in marled gray and fawn. It draped about square shoulders and fell upon long arms, but sometimes only one of them, clinging by the collar to a rope which tied beneath the other. The shabby cape, of slightly newer stock but less well-kept, having been tossed about on chairs and bedposts, trampled in snow and singed by fire, and snagged by wind and steel on blood-slick fields and rugged roads, was worn by Strahd's second in command. Its lining held no secrets, and neither did its shell.

The soft rustle of fabric underscored the tender smack of joining lips. A light breeze whispered ancient nothings to the spires of the pines.

Strahd stumbled on the frayed edge of his concealing garment. Awkwardly, it tugged him down, scattering its winged entrails wide upon the ground. Alek followed, laughing low, and unhooked the buttons at Strahd's throat. He kissed him again ardently, and Strahd forgave himself the lapse in form. He allowed his face a surreptitious grin, gently grasping Alek's jaw.

Through their kisses, Alek pulled the cord on his own cape, which slid softly off his shoulder. It landed as a heap upon the pool of red. Leaning on one arm for balance, Alek scooped up his small sacrifice and placed it behind Strahd's head. He then sank down, himself, to slide one knee beneath Strahd's thigh and guide it up onto his hip. Strahd's heel snagged the fraying edge again, forming subtle ripples in its wake.

Their other garments hardly mattered, none of them so constant as a cloak, but each left one by one with reverence, until the only thing between the two men’s souls was their own skin and bones. Like a curtain in an open window, billowing gently with the breeze, they undulated against each other, breathing now in stuttered gasps.

Strahd’s arm replaced the rope that had been tied across his second’s chest, and Alek’s lips replaced the loops which often rested near the base of his lord’s throat. Strahd’s moan was deeply that of velvet; he tipped his head back on the wool, the fibers catching on his hair. Alek’s fingers clawed in crimson linen—he hardly spoke at all, which was very much unlike him. While trees around them swayed and groaned, their branches stroked each other.

The sky above was clear and crisp, unshrouded were the stars; they winked like faraway jewels, glass beads held high by silver thread. And then they vanished. Strahd’s eyelids, like a hood, pulled down on his dark gaze. The winding fabric of his loins further twisted and wound tight. The inside of his weathered cloak would find new secret stains, not least of which his sweat, which pooled cooly down along his spine, and soaked into the centerline, while Alek kissed his breast.

When all was done and quiet, Strahd reached out both his arms to draw the edges of the great cloak inward, wrapping them around the back of his beloved guard. Alek laid within it, his body draped on Strahd’s, a cloak within a cloak, the only one to have borne witness to this much of such a lovely scarlet lining.

* * *

[Ao3 Collection] [prompt list by @syrips]

[bebemoon]

ancient love poetry, ep. 3 .

[poetryincostume]

On October 3rd, Elric asked me what day it was.

I said, ‘How dare you to talk to me, you coward.’

Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong

Traditionally tailored uniform, 2019

Japanese twill, canvas, grosgrain, leather, gilt braid

[sneakydraws]

i’m like genuinely obsessed with your art. like i check daily to see if you’ve posted something new

GAHHHHHH THANK YOUUUU there's a few artists I'm like that with so I know what a huge compliment that is.... Since I'm literally sitting here drawing right now lemme pick a random doodle from this procreate file as a gift

[unloneliest]

this is an i love you to me and art's AP lit teacher who was the teacher sponsor of the student taught musical art and i wrote/produced the year after i graduated/his senior year. she was an amazing teacher & she got a complete front seat to me and art falling in love & the early days of our relationship in a way no other adult in our lives did

[d3l3t3d-deactivated]

"Epsilon Mu Omicron, I pledge to you my heart. For the betterment of the frat, I will always do my part. Virtuous and Knowledgeable, Philanthropic and Manly, These, the traits of an EMO Little Reciting his oath, oh so blandly."

I never posted these cool photos my boyfriend got of me performing my poem Epsilon Mu Omicron, which is about a masochist pledging to a frat just to get hazed. This was really fun because I don't often get to recite my poetry in drag!!!! I decided to retire this specific poem, but I hope I get inspired to write more soon X

[haykhighland]

beyond this survival,

somewhere our sun sets,

it lets resilience rest,

and I feel— perhaps,

we are not forged of this grief,

nor flashes of forgotten bravery.

— Armenian poem

[bucklavaa]

Just made my non desi friends watch Jodhaa Akbar. They were not immune to the sword fight scene either.

[justluchettathatisall]

So I absolutely LOVE BRIDERTON and I love Kate. So here is my Kate cosplay

I can't WAIT for the new season to come out